


the sharpest blade and the softest embrace

by swamp_witchery



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, this is my second fic ever on here and i still dunno how this website works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21610417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swamp_witchery/pseuds/swamp_witchery
Summary: C2E72 SPOILERSFjord is in bad shape and his first instinct is to go to Caduceus for help. I rubbed my filthy little Fjorclay hands all over this scene and made it Softer.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord, fjorclay - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 162





	the sharpest blade and the softest embrace

It was the coldest of nights in the sprawl of the Flotket Alps. The air outside was frigid and the rocky slopes unforgiving - but even deep in the warm bowels of the Burning Lodge nestled within the steaming monolith that was the Kravaraad volcano, nothing could be colder than the creeping numbness spreading throughout Fjord’s chest. 

The falchion was gone, slowly sinking - sizzling - in the molten rock of the forge. Fjord too, felt like he was about to sink. The weight of his body was almost too much for his knees to bear as a wave of weakness suddenly came rushing through him. After steadying himself with one trembling hand against the rough hewn wall of the cavern, only then did he dare look down at the deep fissure carved into his chest. The wound inflicted by his own hand - a hand which had been so steady and sure until only moments ago. Illuminated by the dim orange glow of the magma pool behind him, thick streams of dark blood oozed out of the wound, soaking the slashed front of his shirt. It was nothing compared to the great gout of red that had sprung forth from the wound when he had removed the blade, but it was steadily, inexorably pouring down his abdomen at a speed that did not seem to suggest an expeditious end.

The reality of what he had just done was only just beginning to set in. Fjord’s head swam and he felt dangerously light, the initial white-hot pain of the falchion biting into his flesh had subsided into a freezing numbness that was slowly spreading past the bounds of his torso and into his limbs. Fear gripped him like a vice, the cold hands of it reaching in through his wound to squeeze at his heart and press the air out of his lungs in laboured huffs.

Caduceus.  
He needed Caduceus.

Fjord’s vision was beginning to darken around the edges, however the ever-shifting light of the magma pool provided a dim light that helped his heavy eyes fix on the blanketed shapes of his friends. They were sound asleep together on the floor, peaceful. 

Stumbling forwards a few unsteady steps, Fjord desperately scanned the huddle of soft, swaddled forms for Caduceus, a hand clutching at his wound in a futile attempt to stem the blood flow. There - on the left - a mop of long pink hair pooled across a pillow. Fjord lurched forwards, his legs felt disembodied and he could feel his heartbeat pounding in his head.

Half falling, half lowering himself, he knelt down beside Caduceus’ head and reached out a hand to softly shake his friend’s shoulder.

“Caduceus?” He whispered, hoarse,  
“Caduceus, wake up.”

A small, tense moment passed. Fjord attempted to rouse him again, his slowly numbing hand grasping the warm fabric of the cleric’s shirt. 

“...Huh?”

Fjord felt as though he could have cried, sheer relief from hearing Caduceus’ voice washed over him. There was the sound of shifting blankets and a soft grunting exhale as Fjord suddenly found Caduceus upright - his face mere inches from his own.

“I - I need your help,” Fjord breathed, his voice caught in his throat as he gestured to his chest. A small trickle of blood ran down his chin from the effort of speaking. He spoke to him in his natural accent, it didn’t seem right to still imitate Vandren, not now. Caduceus’ sleep-softened eyes widened in shock as he looked down to where Fjord’s pale hand was clutching the gash, although, he didn’t seem to notice his change of cadence.  
He said nothing, instead placing a gentle grey hand on top of Fjord’s own. The radiating warmth of Caduceus’ healing soon began to pour through his veins and he allowed himself to breathe out a heavy sigh which had been frozen in his chest ever since he first pierced the skin there.

As his eyes fluttered closed, he was glad that he had somehow instinctively chosen to wake Caduceus instead of Jester. Her healing was potent, but in a way that felt like being dunked in an ice bath or taking a shot of adrenaline. It was indispensable in the heat of battle, but right then and there, it was not what he needed. He needed - wanted - the soothing balm of Caduceus’ touch, the gentle glow of warmth that grew in his belly from his closeness. 

Unable to support his own weight anymore, Fjord allowed himself to slump bonelessly into Caduceus’ long arms, pressing his face into his worn linen shirt. He felt a soft hand smooth his sweat soaked hair from his forehead as the low rumble of Caduceus’ voice vibrated through his chest.

“Hey... Hey now,” he soothed, “You’re safe now, I’ve got you. It’s allll gonna be ok.”

Fjord was too tired to lift his head from the dip between Caduceus’ neck and shoulder, he was pleasantly warm and smelled softly like earth after rain and, was that - jasmine? From a distance, Caduceus looked slender and almost frail, but Fjord found himself pressed against a torso much broader than he was expecting. His embrace was more calming than he could ever express, so he whispered a quiet thank you into his shirt instead. 

Caduceus once again said nothing, just quietly shushed his strained attempts at thanks and rubbed slow, gentle circles into his back. They sat like that for a few minutes, listening to each other breathe. Fjord listened for comfort - Caduceus listened out of concern. Fjord’s breathing was less laboured now, but his legs felt like jelly and it seemed unlikely that he would be able to stand for quite some time.

Caduceus began to quietly get to his feet, displacing Fjord slightly. He made a small sound of displeasure, but Caduceus just smiled - and with a surprising show of strength - gently hoisted Fjord’s limp form into his arms.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, “let’s go get some air, ok?”

All Fjord could do was nod, quite taken aback by the fact he was now five feet up in the air, cradled in the arms of his friend in a way he had never before experienced. Looking up into Caduceus’ face, bathed in the soft glow of the magma, Fjord felt a small flutter in his chest where the icy squeeze of terror had been but five minutes ago. He had never realised quite how long his eyelashes were, milky pink and delicately curled. A dusting of fine, downy hair blanketed his skin and caught what little warm light there was in the room, making the wide, smooth planes of his face look gilded and faintly ethereal.

It took Fjord a moment to process that Caduceus had carried him into a side chamber and was beginning to set him down onto a blanket. He allowed himself to be propped up against the wall - but only until Caduceus had settled beside him, because the gentle warmth of his body heat against Fjord’s shoulder seemed to pull him in closer as though he were magnetised. As his head once again found the curve of Caduceus’ neck, he felt the comfortable weight of an arm drape across his aching shoulders. He was breathing far more easily, inhaling now the rich scent of dark earth clothing his companion instead of the sulphurous magma and iron stench of his own blood. 

Caduceus broke the silence.

“So...” He whispered, brushing a feather light touch over the now-healed mark on Fjord’s chest. “How did that happen?”

Fjord swallowed - shivering at the contact, he felt his face rapidly begin to heat. He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath. After a short moment of hesitant quiet, he said what he ought to have said as soon as he had been healed.

“I threw the sword into the magma.”

He felt Caduceus shift slightly, a small, confused noise escaping his lips. His new voice must have finally sunk in. He still didn’t mention it.

“Your sword?”

“...Yes.”

“Oh.” 

There was silence again for a beat, until he heard,

“Why?”

Fjord’s mind was instantly swarming with images of his vision - of Uk’otoa’s freezing tendrils wrapping his body like chains, the burning stare of his yellow eye searing his own retinas. The paralysing terror of being crushed inside that impossibly dark maw...

“... I don’t like being a hostage.”

Caduceus seemed to understand his meaning, reflexively pulling Fjord closer to his chest. His heartbeat was strong, consistent. Comforting. The hand resting on his shoulder gripped him protectively. The sensation of Caduceus’ form tightening around him should have felt stifling after his tangle with the serpent - except it wasn’t. This time, he melted into the touch instead of shrinking from it.

Fjord felt a low rumble from Caduceus’ chest before he could hear his words.

“How are you feeling?”

Caught off guard, Fjord opened his eyes to think, finding himself staring at the soft green fabric of Caduceus’ trousers with a furrowed brow. 

“I honestly don’t know,” he said in a small voice, blinking, “The sword was all I had.”

“I assure you that’s not true.”

Fjord forced himself to sit up, lifting his head off of Caduceus’s shoulder and shifting around so as to look him in the eye. The sudden lack of contact left him feeling slightly hollow.

“Thank you.”

It was Caduceus’ turn to blink. His long face scrunched gently in mild confusion.

“For what? I’m - I’m at a loss, I’m out of spells -“

“Just for being you,” it was a quiet interjection, but Caduceus fell silent, “for being you and coming from where you have and sharing what you know. I- I’m inspired by you.”

It felt like hours before Fjord heard a response, Caduceus was just gazing at his face, his eyes glistening in the low light, a delicate flush blooming across his cheekbones. Fjord was spellbound.

Caduceus’ next words were so low that they were barely audible, but Fjord hung off every syllable.

“...For what it’s worth, those words alone make me feel like leaving my home and coming on this journey was entirely worthwhile.” As he spoke, his hand had slowly risen to rest on the side of Fjord’s face, fingers tracing his jaw with a feather-light touch. Fjord leant into the contact, eyes half-lidded.

“I think - I’ve said it before - I think there are great things ahead of you.”

Fjord’s eyes were starting to mist, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling and lifting his own hand to graze his fingertips against Caduceus’ lips. They were soft.

“Are you one of those things?”

He was so close now that they were sharing air, knees pressing together.

“I can be,” he breathed, “If you want that?”

“Yeah,” Fjord replied hoarsely, “I want that.”

Time almost seemed to turn to liquid as Caduceus leant in, pressing their lips together. The hand which wasn’t cradling Fjord’s jaw slid to the back of his neck, fingers stroking through the soft, dark hair of his grown-out undercut. 

Fjord was sure that in that moment that his heart was glowing, he had never been so entirely, all-encompassingly warm. He took the opportunity this closeness afforded him to tangle his hands in Caduceus’ silken hair, up by the scalp, as it spilled over his shoulders and drifted in the space between their chests. As soon as he felt Caduceus’ lazy smile curve against his lips, all thoughts of swords and visions vanished, to be replaced with easy daydreams of a hand in his and of feeling safe in the warmth of this embrace.

Fjord placed a hand on Caduceus’ chest, just above the heart. The beat was still steady and strong (albeit a little bit faster). He was softly humming, the vibrations rippling through Fjord’s arm, making him shiver. Caduceus pulled back, still smiling that languid smile, his expression softer than Fjord had ever seen it. His eyes roved across his face, drinking in the moment. Fjord almost shied away from the intensity of his gaze. He gave into the urge to bring his hand back to his face to cover his budding tusks - but Caduceus gently caught it out of the air, holding it back against his chest after pressing a chaste kiss to it’s palm.

“They’re beautiful,” he whispered ardently, “You’re beautiful.”

Fjord blushed and tried to hide his smile. Caduceus didn’t break eye contact, looking equal parts enchanted and solemn.

“You are wonderfully made, Mister Fjord, and I want you to believe it.”

Fjord didn’t answer, he just let his head fall forwards against the velvety skin of Caduceus’ chest, smiling as though he had never smiled so truly before.

They stayed like that for, how long? Neither of them could say, until Caduceus, ever the voice of reason, whispered,

“We should go back through before the others miss us. That could be very bad, what with all the blood on the floor.”

Fjord groaned half heartedly. He was right.

“I don’t want to get up, I’m comfy here.”

He could hear the fond smile evident in Caduceus voice as he said, “Ok, then,” and Fjord was once again five feet in the air, still cradled firmly against his chest.

“You’re stronger than you look, you know.”

Fjord felt Caduceus’ warm chuckle resonate deeply through his own chest,

“I’m wounded, Mister Fjord! I may not be Ms Yasha but I can still pull my own weight.”

Fjord couldn’t help smiling, Caduceus had that effect on him,

“I know you can,” he pressed a chaste kiss against his collarbone.

The group was still fast asleep, completely unaware of what had just transpired - the pair surveyed them fondly for a moment before laying their bedrolls beside each other’s and sinking into much needed rest.

Fjord slept more soundly than he had in a year.


End file.
